


Shame

by breakneck



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Marvel Avengers Movies Universe
Genre: Bromance, Gen, Healing, Male Friendship, Plot, Plotty, Science Bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-20
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-16 16:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/541746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breakneck/pseuds/breakneck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce is insistant that he needs no companionship, but Tony knows that he does. How do you help someone who refuses help?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Gravel at the Bottom of the Fish Tank

**Author's Note:**

> (This was originally published on FF.net. I have since undertaken to add in some setting details to each chapter as I have realized that the original version was short on description. Otherwise the chapters will be exactly the same for the most part. Also, I'm sorry that the name of this fic is so lame. I've never written a fanfic before and I honestly never thought anybody would read it or want to keep reading it.)

“Can we take a pit stop, if you don’t mind?” Bruce says talking to the twilight rather than Tony.

“No prob big guy. I’ll turn off here.” Tony says and true to his word turns the car into a gas station and flicks off the engine. The gas station is, in a word, decrepit. The only part of the entire building in good repair is the iron bars across the window. Everything else is scrubbed up, scratched out, or faded. There is a green poster on the front of the building with the barely-legible words “We value your business” printed on it adorns the wall. He surveys the place, and grimaces as he turns to Bruce.

  
“It looks pretty gross, want to go somewhere else?”

“It’ll be fine, I’ve had much worse. I’ll be right back.” Says Bruce as he quickly steps out of the car before Tony has a chance to respond. Bruce jams his hands into his pockets and walks briskly into the store.

Tony pauses for a second unsure what to do with himself and decides to go inside for a candy bar and possibly a weirdly decent gas-station coffee. His keys jingle merrily as he makes his way inside and they are met with a pleasant little ding as Tony opens the door. Bruce is standing at the counter and turns to look at him as he enters. He ducks his head sheepishly, says something Tony doesn’t quite catch to the dingy-looking man behind the counter, and walks past Tony saying he’ll be out in the car. Tony turns down an aisle and glances out to watch Bruce who has just opened the door of the car and grabbed his duffel bag.  
Tony turns and exits the store briskly. He calls out to Bruce before he can do much more then slams the door shut.

“If you needed some change I could have spotted you.” His smiles but it doesn’t crinkle the skin around his eyes. Banner’s outstretched hand tenses when he hears Tony’s voice, his shoulders slump for just a moment until he pulls himself back to his full height. He turns to face Tony and opens his mouth to speak though he doesn’t say anything immediately.

“You don’t have to take your whole bag in; the murse look doesn’t suit you at all.” Again, a smile and a laugh that aren’t quite genuine. He has almost reached Bruce and now reaches out as if to take his duffel bag. Bruce pulls away before Tony can touch him. His eyebrows have curved upwards ever so slightly and his fingers twitch unsure of their action.

“You can just let me out here. I’ll make my way back to where I belong.” Bruce knows it’s a lame thing to say but he straightens up and tries to assert himself.

“And where would that be? Because to me, the logical place for a mind like yours is in a lab like mine. It’s a total waste for you to just fall off the grid, Banner. At least come do a little research, see the labs, eat some blueberries. How often do either of us have the chance to talk without simplifying everything to drooling simpleton level? I know you have to crave that kind of conversation; I do. Just a couple of days, what do you say?” Tony punctuates his argument by holding out a hand for Bruce’s bag and grinning cockily, he knows that he has quite the carrot to dangle in front of Banner.  
Bruce works his jaw but nothing comes out, so he just puts his head down and hands Tony his bag. Tony smiles even more broadly, showing off his perfect white teeth as he accepts the duffel bag. Bruce immediately turns on his heel and bolts in the opposite direction.

“Goddammit Bruce!” Tony yells and lunges forward to grab Bruce’s shirt, yanking him backwards. The gravel flies and a fine dust rises, settling in their nostrils. This time when Banner rounds on him Tony sees flecks of green radiating outward in Banner’s irises.

“Tony.” Bruce says just his name between gritted teeth. He flexes his fists and shakes his head as if he is dealing with a particularly trying child and he must take a moment to calm down before he should speak again. Tony takes the opportunity to speak.

“I owe you my life, Bruce. Let me repay you just a little bit. Please.” Tony lowers his head and looks at Bruce through his dark lashes.

“Dammit Tony, “ he hisses. “Why don’t you pay me back by just letting me go?”

“I want to help. I-” Tony says but Bruce cuts him off.

“You want to fix me, do you? Think you can just parade me into your lab and make everything okay? I know you think you’ve figured me out, poking me with shit and everything, but I’m still dangerous, Tony. I’m never going to stop being dangerous. No amount of treats and bribes will change that.”

Bruce spits between their shoes, as if marking a line in the gravel and daring Tony to cross it.


	2. Tenuous

“Just get in the car will you?” Tony reaches out to grab Bruce a second time, but curls his fingers back mid-air realizing his mistake in time.

“Just let me take you somewhere at least. I know you’re used to it but I’d be an awfully shitty friend to just let you leave in the middle of nowhere.” His voice is softer now, and though Tony tries to regain eye contact Bruce glares at the ground working his jaw, thinking. Without saying a word he stomps past Tony and gets back into the passenger seat. Tony follows him casually, trying to assess whether or not he’s won the fight. They drive on in silence for a couple of miles before Bruce opens his mouth.

“You’re not my friend you know.”

“And why is that? We hit it off so well….” Tony says, testing his hypothesis.

“You know damn well why, Stark. I fly off the handle and level towns. It’s not like being a mean drunk, it’s like being a force. A- A-“

“A nerve?” Stark smirks. “Maybe we can start to stitch you up then?” Tony’s logic is circular and he knows it, but Tony thinks he might make some headway if he just keeps pushing. Bruce slides his glasses off and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Listen you stuck-up prick! Regardless of logistics, I’m not going to befriend you! I know you seem to think you can fix me, but let’s remember my latest foray into green uninvited. I nearly crushed Miss Romanov with my giant meaty fist! It doesn’t take much!” Bruce hisses just above a whisper.

In spite of himself the hair on the back of Tony’s neck stands up and he finds that for once he has absolutely nothing to say. He just stares out the windshield at miles of shapeless country, not really seeing anything but the threaded pattern of the yellow line on the ash-colored pavement. They come upon a bus stop fifteen excruciating minutes later and Bruce quietly asks to be let out.

There isn’t even a bench, just a rusty sign on a bent post with times listed on its face. Tony tries to recover the situation and smiles as he tells Bruce that he knows where to find him, and he’s always welcome to come visit if he feels so inclined. Bruce leans against the doorframe into the topless car, grips Stark’s hand firmly in his, and looks him right in the eyes, much to Tony’s surprise.

“Thank you Tony, for everything.” He says and the smile that curves his lips is genuine if wistful. Tony wasn’t expecting this.

“You’re welcome Bruce. Keep in touch.” Tony says and drives off wondering when he’ll see the good doctor again. Out his rearview mirror Tony can see Bruce through the clouds of dust blown up on the rural road. Bruce stands alone, and bows his head when he thinks Tony can no longer see him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the shortest "chapter" of this work. I had decided that in order to update with a fair amount of frequency it would be easiest to do so if the chapters were very short. They average around 800 words or so. I'm sorry if that format is irritating.


	3. Postcards and Bits of Silk

It was a month before the first arrived.

It was just a postcard with a picture of a vineyard with “California” printed across it in bright letters. All that was written on it was the address for Stark Tower; wholly unremarkable but for the famous name in the address line. It probably would have been thrown away except that postcards were unusual mail, especially directly addressed to Tony Stark. Even then, it was a month and a half before anyone noticed and brought the postcards to Pepper’s attention. A blank card from San Francisco, one from New Delhi, and some other little town Tony had to look up on Google maps. Every single one comprising nothing but a bright photograph and Tony’s address in Banner’s distinctive handwriting, blocky capitals and wiry lowercase letters.

Then, there is simply a Polaroid with a blurry picture of a fern and what appears to be someone’s thumb, again, no return address, but this time, there’s a small formula written on it and a note to run diagnostics on it against the blood samples Bruce left behind. Tony tests it on Bruce’s blood and finds it ineffective, though on a less virulent mutation it might prove to be useful. He sends it to his testing department, thinking they may very likely find a use for it on something else.

Despite the setback, Tony thinks this is a sign Bruce will come back eventually unbidden. There’s no good way to contact Bruce, the only option is the phone Fury gave him; Tony considers it but then decides that there’s a variety of reasons that has very little chance of success. Instead he bides his time and waits to see how things turn out, mostly on Pepper’s advice. A couple of weeks later a crumpled and slightly water-damaged envelope appears in the small stack of letters, journals, and magazines Pepper sets next to Tony to paw through at his leisure. She has placed Bruce’s letter on top.

“Looks like you have a letter from Bruce.” She says.

Tony yanks the letter off the stack and tears it open with the edge of the tool he had in hand and shakes the contents out onto his worktable. There are three microscope slides wrapped in dirty scraps of what must be the yellow shirt Tony bought him. As he unwraps the slides he can feel that the silk is threadbare and quite worn. Tony’s lip twitches.

“Clever bastard,” he mumbles, “I wonder what state the shirt was in at this point?” Tony is struck with the mental image of Bruce bare-chested washing the shirt by beating it with stones in the river and all that body hair. Tony wonders if the reason the Hulk seems so strangely hairless is that he only has as much hair as Bruce does. Or, does Bruce have so much body hair because it’s all of the Hulk’s hair on his much smaller body? Tony tells JARVIS to make a note so that he’ll remember to ask Bruce about it, see if he gets flustered. Pepper stifles a smile.

The letter is brief, mentioning that when possible he tries to monitor his blood over time and that each slide was made at one-month intervals and how they are labeled et cetera. Bruce thanks him for the favor of checking the slides for him and recording the data. However, the part that gives Tony pause is this:

“I’m well aware that you could track me if you felt so inclined, I will take the lack of replies as a sign that either you are not following my whereabouts or have decided (wisely) to leave me well enough alone. There are very few who respect my privacy anymore, thank you. -Bruce P.S. Unlikely though it is, if that formula worked, you have my permission to track me down.

Tony wonders if the last line is Bruce’s idea of a joke, and laughs in spite of himself.

“What do you think, Pep? Is he warming up to me?” Tony says knowing Pepper read the letter over his shoulder.

“Well, if he didn’t want anything to do with you and the Avengers he would have given up on the blood samples. Give the guy some time, it can’t be easy.” She says and gives him a peck on the cheek.

It wouldn’t be long before they had a chance to test Pepper’s words.


	4. Sweltering

Bruce is unsurprised when Fury’s cell phone rings even though it hasn’t had a charge in months. He is carrying a sagging bucket of water back from the river when he hears it. His feet squelch in stagnant mud and the brackish water sloshes out on his tattered linen shirt and into his face. Bruce lets his breath out like someone kicked him in the ribs. He can actually feel the tension twitch back into his shoulder blade. Bruce makes no effort to move faster to catch the call and in fact stops briefly to fiddle with his wristband.

He is similarly nonplussed when he finds a field agent waiting on him in his cramped little room, her crisp black suit juxtaposed in the fading light against thick, untamed jungle and the dull floorboards. She insists that she is merely there to escort him back and apologizes that he was not informed sooner. Bruce wonders if he could see the fear in her eyes if she was facing him as she spoke, but Bruce goes with the agent without a fight. He is just a little pleased that they thought him stable enough to send someone other than Natasha to collect him even though he suspects that the jungle is populated with a small army.

He systematically empties his mind as he walks, like someone sorting out a junk drawer, keeping the Hulk occupied by finding a shiny little forgotten bauble every once in a while and wondering how long it had been there. How long would it take for the jungle to reclaim his little house? Would he have a chance to take a hot shower and comb his hair?

Bruce comes back to the present when they reach the helicopter and he can’t help but feel uneasy. He knows he can’t get out now that he’s in. His eyes dart around to the agents that surround him,

-watching him.

He spots agent Hill and sighs at the familiar face.

“I keep thinking if I go far enough it will be too expensive to retrieve me. I guess not, huh? My apologies, Ms. Hill; I hope I didn’t buck your schedule too much.” He gives her a nervous smile.

“Not particularly, Dr. Banner. In fact, we’re ahead of schedule. When you didn’t answer your phone we did worry that it would be difficult to locate you.” She smiles back.

He takes a beat and speaks:

“Well, let’s cut to the chase, I can read the briefing, but you might as well just tell me, what needs to be smashed? I haven’t really had access to world news as of late.” He is fairly causal about the situation. He hopes that the pattern will continue and that as long as he cooperates they won’t try to detain him when the “mission” is over. Why should they if he comes when they call? As long as they don’t try to exert too much pressure it will be easy to collar the Hulk. As long as they let him go back and lick his wounds-

“This is why I’d hoped you would pick up your phone.” Hill says pulling Bruce out of his thoughts.

“We’ve actually got a pretty severe outbreak of a deadly new pathogen. It has been described as being akin to an aggressively mutated rabies strain. We have reason to believe that the Chitauri were carriers. We do not want to cause any further panic by allowing this to fester until the public puts two and two together so it is imperative that the pathogen is contained and nullified as soon as possible. We have Stark of course, but this is really more your area of expertise, so we called you in.” She says and there is just the slightest hint of a smile at the edge of her lips.

“Oh” Is all Bruce can manage right away. He is relieved and disappointed all at once. If it were a situation that called for the Hulk he would likely be able to return to his work more quickly, and the less time Bruce spends visible, the better; out of sight out of mind and all that. The only bright side is that he’ll have a chance to review the data Tony has hopefully been keeping for him.

Even though it’s been months, he isn’t sure how Tony will react. Bruce hopes his notes will have smoothed things over, though he isn’t quite sure why he would even bother or why he feels it is so important.

“I hope…” he mumbles, no sure what he hopes for. Maria doesn’t press him for an answer. All he can hear is the whir of the blades keeping them all suspended in the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This feels like the special edition of this fanfiction or something. My poor readers on ff.net didn't get most of the setting details, and I've edited some new dialogue in. Heck, I added chapter titles over here. How posh! If you've read both versions (as unlikely as that is) let me know how you like it! Or, you know, if you're just now reading it that would be nice too. Thank you so much for reading at all, it's amazing to see that people actually want to read what you write. 
> 
> P.S. Do you guys want chapter summaries? These chapters are so short I'm scared that if I summarize them there won't be any point in reading them.


	5. Nirvana is a Place on Earth

Upon being briefed, Tony immediately insisted that they use his equipment rather than S.H.I.E.L.D.’s citing that his would be the more advanced. Fury puts up no fight at all.

“Blow Stark’s money, I don’t give a shit.” Is all he would say. Bruce couldn’t care less whose labs they use as long as they let him get to work and get out but he found himself wishing that they had insisted he use the government lab as he is escorted along with several other researchers and technicians to Stark Tower. He can’t help but feel impressed when he finally makes it to the laboratory; it completely dwarfs the helicarrier’s and everywhere his eye roams is some new delight.

The walls are white, pristine, and house the promise of sweet, shiny steel and precise equipment. In combination with the fine white tiles lining the floor the space seems to stretch on forever with rows and rows of gleaming machines. After spending so long encountering only the rusted, ruined, miracles he could scrape together from bicycle parts and whatever machinery had found their twisted path into the heart of rural India, the space is a fairy castle; he fears to reach out and touch it. So Bruce just walks around staring at things in earnest, trying to memorize their shape. In fact, he can’t say he knows what happened to the other people in his party, that they were redirected to a lab elsewhere, that he was in fact escorted here by a single assistant and left alone. He has finally stopped in front of a display to peer at its readout on one of Tony’s fabulous holographic displays when hears a voice behind him.

“How do you like Nirvana, sweet cheeks?” Tony has sauntered up behind him and is watching his reaction. Bruce visibly tenses, runs a hand through his hair, and turns to face Tony with a sheepish expression.

“If I didn’t know Asgard and the like existed I’d be inclined to agree that this is Nirvana. As is, heaven-on-earth might be a more appropriate moniker.” He pauses, opens his mouth as if to say more, but doesn’t have anything else to say.

“I’ll take heaven. It’s not quite as metal as Nirvana, but I can run with that.” He walks over to stand next to Bruce, neither of them saying anything for several long moments. The lights off of the various monitors glint on Bruce’s glasses and make it difficult for Tony to see his eyes.

“I got your postcards and stuff,” He watches for a reaction from Bruce, whose fingers twitch almost imperceptibly though he says nothing.

“I especially liked the photo, very modern.” Tony grows silent.

“What were the results, Tony?” Bruce asks.

“It didn’t work. But! It’s highly likely that your formula could completely cure less virulent forms of radiation mutation. I’ve sent it down to the boys in development to see if they could come up with an application for it since that’s not really my area of expertise. It’s bound to be helpful to somebody.” He finishes his little speech and gently claps Bruce on the back.

“I didn’t think it would, but it was worth a shot.” He says, quirking his lips.

“Anytime you want to test something you’re free to use the labs. I know The Professor built a ton of stuff out of coconuts on “Gilligan’s Island” but you don’t have to. You can come back to civilization whenever you like. The offer still stands.” Tony steps in front of Bruce as he speaks so that Bruce can see that he’s sincere.

“I know that Tony, but unless I can get a formula that works my inability to have a normal emotional breakdown stands just as firm. It’s not really up to me.” Bruce counters.

“Alright, alright. I won’t press you. I just wanted you to be aware that I haven’t changed my mind. Anyway, let me give you the tour! You’ve haven’t been able to keep up with all the advances I’ve made up in the boondocks so you’re in for a real treat!” says Tony. He gestures towards Bruce and starts to walk away without giving him a chance to respond. Bruce follows after him, hoping to keep up the conversation but at every turn Tony has some new equipment, some great advancement of technology to show him, and after a while he gives up. Bruce begins to feel as if he is just having a rather pleasant dream and if he wanted to, he could stay. He could actually get down to it and do some research here. He almost forgets who he is when there’s nothing around to distract him. Then, Tony has touched his elbow and is saying:

“I got your letter you know. I analyzed the slides, you can access the data in a second. But I wanted to talk to you about the last part of your letter.”

Bruce exhales, feeling just like a deflating balloon.

“I just want to say, I’m sorry. I know it’s not my fault your life is so fucked up that you’re thanking people for not tracking you down like “The Most Dangerous Game” but I am. It’s not okay. I want to try and help you. I know you probably don’t want any help, but again, if you ever change your mind, I’m here. It’s not a bad thing to have friends in high places.” Tony grips both of Bruce’s shoulders very gently and forces eye contact.

Bruce almost jerks back, and in spite of his best efforts his muscles tense at the contact. He almost, corrects Tony like he did months ago when he drove him to bus stop, but he decides that telling Tony that they’re “not friends” in this instance would just make him sound like a hurt little kid. Bruce imagines that that is probably not the best way to convince Tony he doesn’t need help. Instead, Bruce doesn’t say anything at all and after a moment Tony clears his throat and leads him to a display so that Banner can look over his data. Neither one is sure what to make of the incident.


	6. Chink

As it turns out, there really is quite a lot of catching up for Banner to do. While he monitors his own blood frequently, it’s not the same as monitoring the trajectory of a virus as it travels through a nervous system. The assumption that Banner would be useful because of his unique experiences proved to be false. Bruce is giving it the old college try though, and spends several days studying tirelessly in order to get a better understanding of what was actually going on. Despite treating many different illnesses and health problems around the world, Bruce’s practical knowledge of how the body works on the cellular level is actually surprisingly rudimentary. Of course Tony knew from Banner’s file that Bruce’s doctorate was not medical, but the image of Bruce as a kindly physician helping the locals had cemented in Tony’s mind. So, when Tony discovers that Bruce hasn’t solved the problem because he was busy teaching himself the subject, Tony is surprised.

“Really? I’d have thought you’d be read-up on this stuff.” Tony says.

“Not as much as I really need to be when the virus is this aggressive. We likely have a window of a few days for this thing to gestate, but I can’t be sure. Different people will succumb at different times, and I shudder to think what might happen if we don’t get this under control soon.” He shakes his head as he speaks. “

What? Like a zombie apocalypse or something? That really wouldn’t be that hard to deal with...” He turns his eyes to a high corner of the room, “They’d be no match for my blasters anyway.” He flicks his eyes back to Bruce.

“That’s the issue Tony! They’re just dry leaves to crush underfoot. It’s one thing to let the Other Guy out to fight aliens, but these are human beings!” Bruce wheezes.

“But they’re already gone, you said so yourself. They aren’t in the cockpit anymore, the virus has the reins. It’s not the same.” Tony says quietly. Bruce smiles, but his eyes are hard. He laughs and shakes his head. It isn’t until he stiffly turns and walks out of the lab that Tony realizes how that must have sounded to Bruce.

Tony doesn’t follow him, he just stands there and when he hears the quiet hum of the doors he slams his fist into the worktable.

“Fuck!” he says biting down on the “f” and letting it bear the brunt of his anger. Bruce is calm. His tread is heavier than it really should be, but only slightly. When he runs into a lab assistant in the hallway he nods at her and she doesn’t suspect a thing. He brushes his fingers along the hair on his arms over and over again, lightly forcing himself to focus on the sensation, to think.

“It’s not like you’re surprised, Bruce. You know how it is. You know what you are.” Bruce mutters. At this the Other Guy rumbles, but Bruce can’t pinpoint why. He continues,

“You know why we run. You know why you can’t trust anybody. This isn’t a shock.” But even as he says it he can feel the assent rising like a growl in the back of an animal’s throat. It _is_ a shock. In spite of years of training he had allowed himself…to hope. The idea brings with it the taste of bile. Bruce isn’t sure what he was hoping for but the idea is still half-formed and he can’t bring himself to try and reason it out clinically right now when the feeling of betrayal is washing over him.

He finally fumbles his way into his room, locks the door, and slides down it until he is sitting on the floor. It is dark; the only light is coming from a bedside lamp. There is a queen size bed, a bedside table with a lamp, a bookshelf with nothing on it except for some worn-out leather-bound books, a desk scattered with papers, and a chest of drawers with Bruce’s duffel still on top of it. There is another door half open that leads to a pale green bathroom with a shower with far too many buttons for Bruce’s taste.

He has been sitting there a matter of minutes when he hears someone rapping at the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like the idea of Tony having set up a room for Bruce that wasn't overly extravagant so as not to overwhelm him. Bruce doesn't strike me as the type that would want to be surrounded by luxurious things.
> 
> I'd also like to think that Tony really wants to be Bruce's friend but doesn't always know how to do that. They have both been through so much it would be difficult to reach out to other people to make a meaningful connection.
> 
> Also, I'm a total dork. The lab assistant Bruce runs into in the hallway is my little shout out to fellow science bros fans.


	7. Pills

            Bruce doesn’t move to open the door.

            “Bruce! Look, I know I keep fucking up what I say, but this time let me actually talk to you.” Tony says in what comes out as a muffled stage whisper to Bruce on the other side of the door. Bruce gets the feeling that Tony is trying to quietly yell into the crack of the door and wonders why he doesn’t just ask J.A.R.V.I.S. to open it for him. The obvious answer makes him feel a pang of guilt. Bruce sighs, pulls himself off the ground, and pulls the door open.

            “At least you weren’t going to force the door open. I know you could.” He says wiping at his forehead and putting his hand on the doorframe. Tony blinks at him clearly not expecting to gain access so easily.

            “Well, yes, I could open any door in the tower with a verbal command, but not if I want you to trust me. Will you let me in?” He looks down at Bruce’s arm blocking his entry and then back up to Bruce’s eyes. Bruce steps backward and Tony steps over the threshold.

            “Secure in your humanity after all, Stark. We monsters have to be invited.” He laughs bitterly.

            “Monsters? Vampires maybe. And there’s the question of whether or not your stepping out of my way was an invitation…” Stark pauses, “That’s beside the point though; you’re not a monster Bruce! Well, you are; but not like that.” Tony says as his eyes rove around the room.

            “Then how so, Stark? Spell it out for me because I apparently don’t get it. A monster is a monster is a monster. And you know it. I know you were afraid of me when you took me to the bus stop, I can smell it in your sweat.” Bruce says, his voice calm. He moves so that he is now standing with his face inches from Tony’s.

Tony sees shards of green in Bruce’s irises. Bruce catches the micro-expression of Tony’s fear, the slightest flinch, almost completely concealed, but not quite.

 Bruce clenches his fists and continues,

“-And I heard what you said a moment ago. That’s good. You need to remember what I am. Don’t sugar-coat it. I take my medicine like an adult, with a strict routine to avoid side effects and I don’t need your flavored _pills_.” A fleck of spit hits Tony’s face as Bruce emphasizes the “p” in a way no time in distant lands can erase from his American English. The shape of the word pulls Bruce’s mouth into a grimace that Tony finds vaguely familiar. Some faraway part of his brain registers this as a very Hulk-like expression, but Tony blinks that thought away.

            “Are you finished trying to intimidate me?” Stark jeers. He presses his beaded brow to Bruce’s and stares him down.

            Tony says while taking a step backwards: “I know what you’re trying to do. You blast a lot of steam trying to keep people from seeing too much or getting burned, but that won’t work this time. You’re not a monster in the mindless sense. I know that’s what you think, but The Hu-The Other Guy saved my life. Obviously he’s sentient and has the capability to care about other people. You’re more like Frankenstein’s Mon-”

            “But still a monster, Tony.” Bruce interrupts.

            “Jesus, Bruce! Hulk isn’t bad, you’re not bad. A monster’s not inherently vicious, it’s nature versus nurture and goddammit I believe in nurture!” Tony shouts and moves forward to put his hands on Bruce’s wrists. Bruce jerks out of his grip and up against the wall to the side of the door. Tony can see that Bruce’s eyes are shining green in the dim room.

            “How is that any better?! Surely you’ve hacked my file at this point! By your own logic here I’m about 80% monster. What do you think the root cause of my rage problem is?!” Bruce slams his fist into the wall hard enough to dent it and doesn’t flinch.  Tony grits his teeth.

“The why isn’t important Tony, keeping people safe is.” He says and pinches the bridge of his nose mechanically before taking a ragged breath and starting again.

“Well then, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to try and find whatever provisions have been made in case of emergencies because I don’t feel very safe to be around.” Bruce grinds out and pushes out the doorway past Tony.

Tony tears his eyes around the room, but can’t find anything there that makes him feel less awful.

As it turns out, Tony had built a safe room in case of emergencies, and truth be told, Bruce already knew about it, but he couldn’t resist that last passing jab. He snorts derisively as he thinks about it as the heavy, enforced doors slam shut behind him.

Tony stands around holding his breath until he can’t hear Bruce’s footsteps anymore and then takes off in a dead sprint in the opposite direction.

“J.A.R.V.I.S. , ready Mark VII.” His voice cracks.

“Yes, sir.” J.A.R.V.I.S. pauses, “Dr. Banner has entered the safe room without incident. Vital signs indicate heart-rate elevated to near crises level.”

Tony has nothing to say. He dons his suit without fanfare and races to Bruce, ready to talk him down if possible.

“J.A.R.V.I.S., load the live security feed from the room to my display.” Tony orders. Tony’s vision is flooded with a vast white room, with Dr. Banner standing near the center. Bruce has broken into a sweat that soaked the armpits of his button-down shirt down to the edge of his ribcage. His skin appears to have taken on a verdigris hue, though Tony can’t be sure.

“Dammit, we’re fine! We’re fine! I know better than to trust him! I know better! This isn’t a big deal! You don’t need to make an appearance!” Bruce shouts. His shoulders are raised and his movements are sharp. Tony turns his head, but the display fills his vision.

“There is no reason for you to come out now. We’re safe.” Bruce says. He doesn’t look safe standing in the expansive room with nothing but wooden crates and sadistically large punching bags to keep him company.

“I’m not sure under what circumstances I wanted to test the room, but this isn’t it.” Tony mumbles and puts a hand on the wall to steady himself.

Bruce sinks to his knees with a sigh. Tony squeezes his eyes shut. He can’t escape hearing The Hulk’s roar in stereo, over the speakers and through the door. Tony puts his other hand out to brace himself, opens his visor, and retches onto the smooth white tile at his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my humble opinion, this is the best chapter I've written of this. I hope that you guys enjoyed it. It's finally starting to pick up a little bit, eh? 
> 
> If you guys have any comments or critique I'd really appreciate it! I'm almost caught up with my ff.net account with these updates. There's only more chapter to post after this one and then I'd be caught up.


	8. Chains

Tony spits bile and pushes himself up off the wall.  


“J.A.R.V.I.S., I’m going in, if something goes wrong, put the building on lockdown. If that happens do not take us out of lockdown until Bruce is back.” Tony grits out.  


“As you wish, sir. I shall allow Dr. Banner to make the call if you are indisposed.” Says J.A.R.V.I.S.  


Tony doesn’t come back with anything, just takes another step and wrenches open the first in a series of doors, each progressively heavier. There is a pause as the final seal is opened, this door operating under the hiss of hydraulics.  


Tony sucks in a breath.  


The doors open to reveal The Hulk standing in the midst of a room the size of an aircraft hangar. The floors and walls are smooth, no crevices or cracks for the Hulk to pry at. There are large wooden crates strewn around the floor, some stacked on top of each other and gigantic punching bags hanging at regular intervals from the ceiling from heavy steel chains. The Hulk has one of the punching bags clutched to his chest. With a jerk, he pulls the chain from the ceiling and turns to see Iron Man stepping into the doorway. He gives the bag a squeeze before grabbing the chain and letting the bag fall to the ground. He drags it behind him as he stalks towards Tony.  


“Don’t want you now. Go away.” Says the Hulk. His voice is more quiet than Tony thought he was capable of, but his eyes are hard.  


“Look big guy, Bruce isn’t in any danger.” Tony puts his hands out so that Hulk can see that they are empty.  


“I decide; not Banner.” He says and drops the chain which Tony feels as a dull throb through his suit.  


“If Banner not in danger, why Metal Man here?” Hulk says and curls his fingers slowly.  


“I-” Tony starts but trails off. Hulk stares at him, waiting.  


“I don’t have a good answer to that Big Green. I don’t want to hurt Bruce, he’s a good guy.” Tony stops for a moment, working his jaw, “I guess I’m scared. You scare me.” The Hulk stoops, his face inches from Tony’s and sniffs him. Tony can feel the perspiration beading on his neck cooling under his air vents. The Hulk stands abruptly and sidesteps away from Tony.  


“Why?” Hulk says, his tone flat, not angry; and he bows his head slightly. Tony swallows hard.  


“You’re big; very big. You can pick me up with one hand even in my suit.” Tony pauses, unsure if he should keep going but deciding to keep pressing forward.  


“And…I can’t control you.” He says the last part in a rush and Hulk looks shocked but Tony keeps going.  


“I don’t mean I can control everyone else, but you. You! You’re just so beyond my ability to understand, I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to be scared of you. I know that you aren’t my enemy. But I-”  


Hulk interrupts,  


“Hulk NOT enemy. Banner not enemy. That’s enough.”  


“But I’m just a man. I don’t have superpowers and I don’t have a Hu- you to protect me if I get hurt. And I know you can hurt me, and I know Bruce can too.” Tony takes three steps towards the Hulk, but then stops.  


“Actually, no. I do know the answer to your question. It’s because I’m a hypocrite. Do you know what that means? It’s somebody who says one thing but does another; a liar. I wanted Bruce to trust me, believe me, let me in, but I wouldn’t do the same. I wanted him to show me puny little Banner, but I kept my suit on. I’m rich, I get what I want most of the time, and I’m selfish. It’s hardly fair, because Bruce can’t act like I do. If he gets upset he hands over the reins to you. I backed him into a corner over and over again and only just now did he have to give up; and mostly because you got tired of watching him let me be an insensitive douchebag. If Bruce wants to leave, he can. I won’t force him to stay. I’ve done enough as it is.” Tony says all of this in one go- unable to make eye contact with the Hulk.  


The Hulk shifts, though Tony can’t quite make out what’s happening because he doesn’t look up.  


“J.A.R.V.I.S., deactivate my suit. I don’t need it.” Tony says and begins pulling off the gauntlets as they hum with unseen hydraulics. He has nothing more to say.  


The Hulk places his palm on Tony’s head and Tony bends under the sudden pressure. Neither one of them says anything at all. When Tony feels the weight start to lessen and the hand pull away from his head, he quietly walks out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Good God I thought I posted this chapter months ago! As it happens the fic is completed so it's going to be a double update!)


	9. We all Want Someone We Can Trust

Tony’s tread is brisk until he comes to the doorway. Once there he stops abruptly and tells J.A.R.V.I.S. to call off the lockdown. The doors open with a heavy metallic grind and Tony thrusts himself out into the hallway. A little Roomba-esque robot cleans up the evidence of his cowardice as Tony walks by. For some reason, this is the image that sticks in Tony’s mind as he walks, the little round machine and the faint scrubbing noise it was making replays over and over in his head as he walks. 

By the time he finds his way to his room he doesn’t even want a shot of bourbon. He grips the bottle, trudges over, and lays face down in the middle of his bed. His body aches all over but he can’t bear to move so he just stays there. At some point he must have fallen asleep. He pulls his eyelids open with difficulty and finds that his eyes had crusted shut in the night. He is still wearing his rumpled clothing from the night before and the bottle that he’d gripped so tightly is jammed uncomfortably under his leg.

“What time is it, J.A.R.V.I.S.?” says Tony.

“It is approximately 3:13 p.m., sir.” J.A.R.V.I.S. responds. 

“And where is he?”

“Bruce is in his quarters, sir. He requested breakfast so I took the liberty of having that delivered to him.” J.A.R.V.I.S. proves his mettle by responding not only with the information requested, but desired.

  
Tony kicks his shoes off over the edge of the bed, then rolls up and off to take a shower. He stumbles into his lavish bathroom and strips down to allow his shower a chance to try and scrub the guilt off of him.

For his part, Bruce has been busy. He woke in his bed, dressed in pajamas with an unofficial likeness of Hulk’s face printed all over the bottoms and a t-shirt with the words “The Incredible Hulk” printed across the front. For some reason, the pajamas made a lump appear in his throat and he doesn't know why. Instead, Bruce got to work with renewed vigor on his formula. It came to him rather suddenly that antibodies could be built up to this virus in much the same way that smallpox was originally staved off, by exposure to a similar but non-deadly virus. All that was left to do was to create such a virus. This could be left up to the lab team. He is so wrapped up in his work that he feels he shouldn’t leave it and asks J.A.R.V.I.S. to have someone bring by some sort of breakfast. To his delight what is brought to him looks like the “balanced breakfast” from a cereal commercial. He makes short work of the meal though he does find himself smearing grease on his notes. He is so intensely focused on his work that when, hours later J.A.R.V.I.S. speaks to him, he is so startled that green rises to the surface unbidden.  


“I hate to disturb you, but it has come to my attention that the presence of Master Stark and yourself is being requested by S.H.E.I.L.D. It would appear that there was a small group of Chitauri that were left stranded on Earth. They have taken over a small town in rural New York. Avengers assistance is requested in dealing with this situation, as they appear to have had enough time to repair their weaponry and have proven intelligent enough to take hostages.”  


Bruce leaves his apartment without even stopping for a pair of shoes. He simply walks to the nearest exit and is picked up by waiting S.H.E.I.L.D. agents who usher him onto a waiting helicopter. Neither of the field agents comment on his state of dress or lack of shoes. Bruce seats himself and concentrates on the crosshatch pattern of the metal on his bare feet. He imagines the cold of the steel radiating upwards into his body. It actually surprises him to see Tony, who catches up the transport chopper mid-flight and swings open the escape hatch with slightly too much force, bending the metal hinges and causing the door to sit unevenly when he closes it.  


Tony intends to speak with Bruce, finally, to try and smooth things out with him. He walks over towards him and can’t help but smile when he realizes that J.A.R.V.I.S. actually did follow his Hulk protocol and dress Bruce in friendly Hulk pajamas. Tony opens his visor to speak.  
“Hey”  


Bruce nods in acknowledgment.  


“About last night, I-” Tony starts, but Maria Hill’s voice cuts in over the intercom.  


“We’re going to do the drop now. Are you ready, Dr. Banner?”  


“I am.” He says quietly.  


Bruce stands and moves to the center of the drop hatch under his feet. Bruce smiles to himself, baring his teeth like a snarling dog. A chill runs down Tony’s spine and he’s not sure why. Bruce turns to face Tony, tips his nose at him, and juts out his chin in grim preparedness. Tony watches fascinated as Bruce rearranges. Even though the transformation takes a matter of seconds, Tony’s mind notes everything in high detail, causing time to slow to a crawl as he watches the change take place. Bruce’s body shifts, his bones thicken and lengthen, his skin shines green and in that instant between beings it takes on a deathly shade. 

Everything about his body grows encasing Banner like a great green sarcophagus, protected for his journey into a dangerous unknown world. Tony felt, as he had immediately upon witnessing the transformation for the first time, that he had witnessed a miracle, scientifically possible or not. The hatch opens just as Banner might have become too big to fit through it.  


________________________________________________________________________  


Bruce wakes up completely naked and surrounded by piles of rubble. He can see flashes of color, Steve’s stars and stripes, Natasha’s hair as they walk off to help with cleanup. Someone has thoughtfully placed a folded blanket next to his feet. He wraps it around himself and sits on the edge of a cinderblock wall, smashed low no doubt by his own giant fist. He watches the movement around him blearily, trying to pick out the memories from his swimming thoughts.  


With a whoosh of afterburners Iron Man lands next to Bruce and sits beside him on the wall. The visor lifts up to reveal a grinning Tony Stark.  


“That went well!” Tony says brightly. “I probably could have taken them all out with my palm cannons but you definitely sped things up, Dr. Banner. I mean, I guess Big Green did. Same difference?” Tony is almost talking to himself.  


Bruce turns his ear towards Tony, but otherwise doesn’t move. “Yes and no. “He laughs, a shallow sound, turns his head, and coughs into his crooked elbow.  


Stark pauses, watching Bruce carefully, realizing that he has already been a bit too friendly given the nature of what happened between the night before.  


“I have to say, I think there’s more you present when he’s loose than you’ve admitted.” Tony presses.  


“Well, of course there is, as long as I’ve had enough time to get myself there. When we’re in agreement-“ Bruce looks up sharply, focusing finally on Tony’s face and doesn’t finish the sentence. He pulls the blanket tighter around his body and notes with a detached disgust that it is made of wool and it is scratching his skin.  


“I’m a little more present than I’d readily admit, Tony. Apology accepted, by both of us.” Bruce sighs and the way the fading light catches the circles under his eyes gives Tony the impression that life gave Dr. Banner a pair of black eyes.  


“That’s my secret. The real secret. Because the other caveat with that secret is that I enjoy it.” Bruce murmured.  


“What?” Tony said and squeezed Bruce’s shoulder. Bruce’s muscles tense and he inhales a deep breath before he continues.  


“It’s terrifying to lose it, it really is,” he pauses, 

“but there’s a part of me that likes it. Sometimes I want to punish people. Sometimes I just want to slip under and let the Other Guy take it all on, let him be in control. I hate myself for it. I have to always be hyper-vigilant but there are times when I welcome him. I like it, I like the power coursing through me. I don’t have any control, but at the same time it feels like I have total control. It’s a fucked-up power fantasy. Lose your shit and be totally unaccountable for what happens.” His voice rises and Tony isn’t sure what he can even say.  


All Mr. Mile-a-Minute Mouth can manage is:  


“I see.” His voice is flat. This is beyond Tony’s depth.  


“And sometimes, sometimes I don’t feel guilty about what he did. What I did. Sometimes I think they deserved it. Then he and I are in agreement for about half a second until the guilt washes over me. I force myself to feel guilty sometimes. Because what does that make me if I don’t feel guilty? Then he and I are one and the same. We’re the same entity really. It’s not Bruce and The Hulk, it’s just Bruce. On some level, that’s really how it is. Those instances when the green creeps across my skin and I give in, they’re a release. It’s euphoria. And I’m ashamed.” Bruce lowers his head and slumps his body away from Tony. Tony allows his fingers to rake across Bruce’s back, then he pulls his hand away and clenches his fist.  


“Do you mean to tell me that you enjoy it?! Is that what you’re saying? You get off on it?” Tony’s voice raises and he leans in so that Bruce has to look him in the eye. Bruce looks away at first. Then, he holds Tony’s gaze and nods in the affirmative just once and watches for his reaction, ready to bolt.  


“Good; excellent even. Hell, I’m glad to hear it!” Tony says and takes Bruce’s hand.  


“What?” Bruce sputters.  


“I’m glad to hear it. I’d be worried if you didn’t feel that way at least on some level. I’m pretty sure everybody wishes they could just beat the shit out of their problems every once in a while. I have. I built a suit so I could do just that.”  


“But what does-“ Bruce manages before Tony cuts him off.  


“I said I’d spent countless hours “privatizing world peace” when really I just built a suit so I could do whatever the hell I wanted. We all want to be so big that nothing can ever hurt us again. I would hope that the one person in the world who can literally turn into an embodiment of rage gets a kick out of it.  


I would.” Tony doesn’t stop to think if this is the right thing to say. He just does what he always does and plows ahead.  


“You should never EVER feel ashamed of that.” He leans in and hugs Bruce tightly. The blanket is just enough between them to keep the soot and heat away from Bruce’s skin.  


Silent tears run down Bruce’s face as he puts his arms around Tony as well. He awkwardly claps the back of Tony’s suit and tries to keep his emotions in check. As the cleanup crews arrive to try and stem the damage, a man who could never rely on anybody but himself finally accepts that he has a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me long enough to read all of this, my apologies for the crazy-long hiatus. I actually wrote an early version of this chapter first, though I tried to go back and make it mesh with the way the characters developed in my writing. This was my first ever fanfiction, and I'm unreasonably pleased to have finished it. It's pretty late here, and I made it my goal to finish it tonight or risk not finishing it at all, so I may go back in the next couple of days to tinker with details. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it even though there wasn't any smut involved.


End file.
